


One Night in December

by PFL (msmoat)



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 07:15:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8739856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmoat/pseuds/PFL
Summary: There were promises made, one night in December.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Discovered in a Christmas Card challenge on LJ, December 2016.

“What do you reckon?” Doyle’s opinion of their chances was evident in his tone.

Bodie glanced at their charge. Walker would be the star witness against Coogan—if they got him to court. He was nearly too frightened to move now, though. His breathing was shallow, eyes closed.  “Not much.”  The R/Ts were useless and Coogan’s men stood between them and any help that might arrive. 

“They’ve only seen me.”

“You don’t know that.”

Doyle shrugged. “Better than even odds, anyway.”

Bodie looked at him. “You draw them off?”

“Make them think they’ve got me and Walker.”

“They will have you.” Bodie’s throat was tight.

Doyle didn’t say anything. His gaze was steady. There was no hint of challenge in his eyes, yet Bodie knew what he was remembering.

Fuck. Anger and rebellion flowed through Bodie, but he held them in check. He wouldn’t break his word. He nodded once.

The side of Doyle’s mouth lifted in a slight, brief smile. “I’ll go left.”

Towards the court. “Right.”

“No, left, you—”

Bodie rolled his eyes, played the role Doyle demanded of him, pretended his heart wasn’t trapped in his throat. He turned towards Walker. A touch on his arm drew his attention back to Doyle.

Doyle was poised for flight, but he captured Bodie’s gaze again. “You come back to me.”

“Always.”

Again Doyle gave him that fleeting smile, so like the one he’d seen that night. And then Doyle was gone. Bodie waited until he heard shouts, followed by gunfire. He pulled Walker to his feet and they ran. The gunfire faded behind them, but hope lived in the memory of a smile—and promises.

*

*****

*

Kate Ross sat beside Doyle’s bed in the ward. ‘See if he’ll listen to you,’ Cowley had said, with more hope than conviction, she’d thought. Everyone else had failed at the attempt to keep Doyle quiet—nurses, Murphy, even Cowley himself. Rather to her own astonishment, she had been somewhat more successful. Perhaps it was because Doyle always tried for cool control in front of her. She looked at the bruising on his face, stark against the white pillow case. He’d endured a savage beating, yet had managed to rescue himself. The doctor had treated his injuries and concussion, but broken ribs had caused a life-threatening haemo-pneumothorax. It was essential for Doyle to remain still while the drain they had inserted did its work. But Doyle fought both drugs and rest, fading in and out of consciousness.

She saw his muscles tense. “Stay still, Four-five.”

“Bodie,” he said. His eyes opened.

“You know they’re searching for him.” She kept her voice calm and even.

He blinked at her, as if striving to bring her into focus.  “He’ll come.”

‘Yes, of course,’ was what she meant to say. But the words stuck in her throat. It had been two days. There was no trace of Bodie or the witness. Most believed they were in the Thames. She knew the purpose of white lies, and knew it was best to keep Doyle calm, but lying to him felt wrong. He wouldn’t thank her—or trust her afterwards. They dealt in grim reality in CI5. “Doyle—”

“He’ll come…back to me.” Doyle’s voice was weak, but the utter conviction in it brought a strange chill to her neck.

“Will he?”

A slight smiled curved the corner of Doyle’s mouth. He closed his eyes. 

She thought about that smile two hours later when a commotion outside the ward brought her to the hallway, and face-to-face with Mr Cowley.

“They made it, Kate. Walker _and_ Bodie. Walker’s leg is broken. Bodie is in surgery. They weren’t chucked into the Thames—they leapt in! It took them this long to make it to us, given their injuries. Desperate measures, but by God they did it. Bodie and Doyle.” He rubbed his hands together. “We’ve got Coogan now—oh, yes!”

“Doyle will want to know.”

“Aye. Is he awake?

“He’s never really slept.”

“He will now. He’s wanted Coogan for years.” He smiled broadly at her.

“I’m sure he will. Congratulations, sir.”  She walked away from him, but once she was around the corner, she stopped and leaned against the wall. ‘He’ll come back to me,’ Doyle had said. Not back _for_ me; back _to_. It was an injured man’s slip of the tongue. It was nothing…or it was everything. Again, she felt that chill on her neck. All she had was instinct and supposition. And yet…that was nearly all she ever had when it came to CI5 agents. Science, she had found, only took you so far. She knew _them_. She knew them as well as she knew her duty. 

She thought about Doyle’s smile, his certainty. She thought about Bodie surviving to return. No doubt, Mr Cowley would put it down to training, loyalty, and a strong sense of duty. He would be right, and he would be utterly wrong. 

To whom did she owe the greater loyalty? They had survived because of each other. How did that harm CI5?

She pushed herself from the wall, stood tall, then walked away, her face calm.

*

*****

*

 

She took a deep breath to centre herself, then knocked sharply on the door to Mr Cowley’s office.

“Come.”

She entered the office. It had felt a little eerie walking through the nearly deserted hallways of CI5. The organisation never stopped for holidays, of course, but it was minimally staffed this late on Christmas Eve. She hadn’t been surprised that Mr Cowley was one of the few in the building.

“Ah, Doctor Ross. I didn’t expect to see you so late.”  He set his reading glasses down on the desk before him. “Perhaps I should have.”

“I didn’t wish to delay informing you.” She lifted her chin a little. “I have failed, Mr Cowley.”

He met her gaze. “Bodie.”

She breathed out.  Of course he knew. “You have his resignation?”

“No. I expect it after Boxing Day, now. Please, sit.” He paused while she settled herself on a chair. “The car that Bodie keeps—kept—in storage is missing. It seemed a logical conclusion, in the circumstances.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t resign in person.”

“We said all we needed to some time ago. The letter is a mere formality.

She kept her face still, but it was a moment before she was certain she had control over her voice. “I see. You never believed I would be able to convince him to stay.”

“No.”

She narrowed her eyes, pondering the military mind. He always had a strategy in mind. “Why did you bother to have me speak with him, then?”

“He was angry. He needed an objective opinion. I knew you would lay out the facts, plainly and clearly. Of course, he knew he could no longer serve as an active agent, given the loss of his spleen. He needed to realistically assess the alternatives. You would present a ‘desk job’ to him in a positive light, but you also wouldn’t sugar-coat it. I am certain, because of you, Bodie’s decision was rational, unsullied by emotion. I am not surprised he chose to resign. I’ve known men like Bodie my entire career. He doesn’t have the temperament for a non-active position. He does his best work in the field. If he were different—if he enjoyed the puzzle—“

“Like Doyle does?”

He raised his eyebrows? “Aye, if you will. Yes. If Doyle had been the one invalided out, I believe he would have made the transition within CI5. But Doyle made a full recovery and is back on active duty.”

She looked down at her hands. “I recommended Doyle also transition off the Squad.”

“He’s too valuable as an active agent.”  

Her breath caught, suspicion blooming in her mind. “I told you the difficulty Doyle would be likely to experience on the Squad with Bodie in a different position in CI5.”

“Yes.”

She stared at him, seeing beneath the surface charm and candidness. 

“I agreed,” he said calmly.

She had never met a more ruthless man. He had set her up to fail—and he had set her up to succeed at his real purpose. “If you could have only one,” she murmured, more to herself than to him.

Was that approval in his gaze? “The luxury of choice is rarely mine. Kate. You did your best. If anyone could have convinced Bodie—”

“Or driven him away?”

He shook his head. “The facts did that. You merely…hastened the inevitable.”

“And cleared Doyle’s path?”  She nodded. He had used her most skilfully. She understood his pragmatism even as she deplored his methods. Would he never learn to confide in her? She might have— But it would be easier to demand the sun change direction. “Well, it has happened, as you predicted. Bodie has chosen a life outside of CI5.” She stood, and drew in a breath. “Now that it is no longer a conflict of duty…I will say I believe he has, in fact, made the better choice.”

“I hope it is. I am fond of the lad. If it is in my power to ease his path, I will.”

She walked to the door, turned back. “Are you as fond of Doyle?”

He looked at her, as if surprised. “Doyle is a highly valued agent.”

Gently, she said: “Don’t you mean he _was_ a highly valued agent?”

Mr Cowley frowned. 

“I believe you will find two resignations will arrive on your desk the day after Boxing Day.” She paused for a moment. “You should never fully discount the emotional. Good night, sir.”  

She left the office, closing the door softly behind her. She was surprised to find her heart beating heavily and she took a moment to compose herself. She heard Mr Cowley’s voice behind the door; he sounded urgent. She left the outer office, headed home. So, he had believed her enough to check on Doyle’s whereabouts. She didn’t doubt what he would find. What a twisted path Mr Cowley’s devotion to CI5 had led him on. He had sacrificed Bodie in order to retain Doyle but it had had the opposite effect. Cowley had fundamentally—willfully?—misunderstood their relationship, and the reason for her warning. No doubt, he had thought, with Bodie gone Doyle would ‘move on’ more easily. Instead, Doyle had left as well. 

What if she had been more plain with him? He wouldn’t have believed her. He interpreted the facts through his own viewpoint, his own obsession. CI5 was everything to him. She smiled a little. She could use that obsession to help him. Perhaps she couldn’t make the sun change direction, but she could make its light brighter, show him where he’d erred. Bodie and Doyle had learned to value teamwork, why not Mr Cowley?

As she climbed into her car, she wondered where Bodie and Doyle were. Wherever it was, she wished them well.

*

*****

* 

Bodie transitioned so slowly from dream to reality that it took him a while to realize he really was in the car, with Doyle, and they had finally stopped.

“Wakey, wakey.”

Bodie sat up, blinking. It was night. They appeared to be in a deserted car park outside a country pub. A single light shone over the doorway; the interior appeared dark. “Where the hell are we?”

“Did you have a good kip?”

“Oh, yeah, in a car. Five star accommodation.”  In truth, he had slept more deeply than he’d thought he would. But then, he hadn’t slept well while he’d wrestled with his future. “You promised me a pub dinner for Christmas Eve. You didn’t say it would be in Scotland.”

“That’s because it isn’t. This is Suffolk.”

“Suf— For Christ’s sake, Ray, it’ll take us all night to get back!”

“Good thing we aren’t going back. Tonight, at any rate. C’mon.” Doyle opened his car door and climbed out.

Bodie followed him. “But I haven’t any gear or—”

“That’s never bothered you before. Five star accommodations, creature comforts—is that how it’ll be, now you’re out of CI5?”

Bodie stood still. He couldn’t see Doyle’s expression. “I’m…not…” Fuck. Doyle knew.

“Well, technically, you’re right.” Doyle turned away. “Nik, we’re here!” He headed towards the door to the pub.

Bodie stayed by the car. All right. Plan B.  It was a pity he didn’t have a plan B.  He had hoped for a last, peaceful Christmas with Doyle, before he told him. Bugger. He should have known better. He let out a sigh, then followed after Doyle.

The door to the pub opened and a tall woman in an overcoat stepped outside. “It took you forever, Ray!”

“Well, I have to obey the speed limits now.”  Doyle kissed her on the cheek. “Is everything ready?”

“Of course.” She eyed Bodie up and down. “Is this him, then?”

“Bodie, meet Nikki. She’s arranged everything.”

Bodie nodded at her, still reeling a bit—and what was Doyle on about speed limits?

“I didn’t know you went for the tall, dark, and silent type,” Nikki said.

“He’s beautiful when he’s confused. Here you go.” Doyle handed the car keys to Nikki.

Bodie frowned, sudden suspicion fueling a rising dread within him. “Doyle—”

“Go on inside,” Doyle interrupted him. 

Bodie didn’t move. He watched as Nikki kissed Doyle—not on the cheek—told him he was a wicked boy but obviously in good hands, and then got into the car and started the engine.  “So, now you’ve stranded me for Christmas,” he said to Doyle, allowing himself to be ushered into the pub.

“Well, _technically_ —”

He was in no mood for one of Doyle’s acts. “Where the fuck are we?”  Bodie looked around the deserted and clearly neglected pub. There was light, after all, streaming from a back area. His stomach growled as he smelt food cooking.

“I know it looks a bit rough, but we’ll sort it.” Nik said the living quarters are all right, and there’s food, as you can—”

“Doyle.”

Doyle turned to face him, and now Bodie could see his expression, but all it told him was that Doyle was on edge. “It’s ours.”

“Ours?”

“Belonged to my great uncle Henry.”

Bodie blinked. “Your family’s from Derbyshire.”

“Yes, but old Henry got away from them, settled here. When he died he left me this.” Doyle gestured at the building.

“You never said. Why you?”

“Well, I thought I was going to sell it. As for why me…” Doyle moved forward, kissed Bodie briefly. “I took after Henry’s side of the family.”

“Ah. And while we’re on the subject of who’s who, who’s Nikki?”

“Old friend, old debt. When I first knew her, she was ‘Nicholas.’ Saved her from some yobs.”

“Right. Any other bombshells you’d care to drop?”

Doyle looked him in the eye. “I think you already know the biggest.”

“You’ve resigned.” Saying it out loud helped bring everything into focus. He knew how to channel anger. 

“Well, posted the letter. It should arrive the same time as yours. When were you going to tell me about it, anyway?” Doyle’s light tone didn’t deceive Bodie, but he also didn’t care.

“In my own time. Christ, Doyle. What the bloody hell have you done? Do you think— It’s _my_ decision, not—“

“No, you bastard! it’s _our_ decision. Our partnership, our future! Just as this is our pub, if we want it. Emphasis on the ‘we’!” 

Bodie had put a lid on the anger—fear, heartbreak, everything he’d felt as the doctor had spoken to him, ending the life he knew. It all came flooding out now, ignited by Doyle’s passion and high-handedness. “You think you’re so bloody smart. No! Not like this. For God’s sake, Doyle. I’m not dragging you down with me!”

“That’s my choice.”

“Oh, so it’s only ‘our’ when it comes to my decisions? Fuck you, Doyle!” He took a few steps away, then turned back. “You want to resign? You think that’s going to set us up for success? D’you think I don’t know what CI5 means to you?

Doyle stood straight, eyes hard. “Do you think I don’t know how bloody fucking hard it was for you to stay with Walker?”

Bodie froze.

“You kept your promise.” Doyle’s voice was softer, but no less fierce. “You put the bloody job first. I knew the cost to you, even before all this—the injury—”  He broke off. “I _knew_. Well, now it’s your time to live with the cost of promises made. You wanted forever. _This_ is fucking forever, Bodie!”

Bodie closed his eyes. It had been—  It had been a night of passion, revelation, fear, and promises. But this… He hadn’t anticipated this pain, this price. “Ray.”  He heard Doyle moving, opened his eyes to find him close.

Doyle tilted his head, and Bodie saw the challenge in his eyes that he hadn’t seen that day with Walker. “Hard to be the one accepting the sacrifice, isn’t it?” Doyle’s voice was soft, but there was no give in it.

“Bloody promises.” He leaned forward and took Doyle’s mouth with his own. All his emotions, all the fear and anger, trust and need, poured into that kiss. And they were met, matched, transformed. He’d lay his life down for Doyle, as Doyle would for him. He’d accepted that long ago. Was this any different?  No; it was better—they got to live. When the kiss ended, his hands gripped Doyle’s shoulders. “I was going to…  But then I thought we could have one last Christmas.”

“I hope you were going to end that sentence ‘I was going to tell you,’ not ‘I was going to slip away’.”  Doyle eyed him. “Well, I knew something was going on in that thick head of yours. I decided to be proactive. Our _first_ Christmas will be…peaceful.”

“I’m not really thinking _peaceful_ thoughts just at the moment.” Bodie nudged him with his groin.

Doyle grinned. “Yeah, okay. But there’s a dinner cooking, and we’ve got some unloading to do.”

“Eh?”

“Well, I packed some of your things, didn’t I? Movers will get the rest. Nik got the food in and drove the car down, but I told her—”

“Movers? What car?”

Doyle’s grin turned sly. “The one you think I don’t know about. I nicked it. Well, Nik actually nick—”

Bodie shut him up with another kiss. “So, we have a car.”

“And a pub. Or a base of operations. Or something to sell.”

“Why don’t you show me around our estate?”

They walked through to the kitchen, found a hearty stew simmering, and enough supplies (including chocolate, the discovery of which made him kiss Doyle again) to see them through Christmas and Boxing Day. His car was parked at the back of the pub. True to his word, Doyle had packed the necessities for him. “Might have packed another jumper. It’s cold,” Bodie said. They were in the largest of the bedrooms above the pub.

Doyle turned from placing an empty case on top of the wardrobe. “There are better ways to keep warm.”

“Bet the chimney smokes. This place is going to need work.” He looked out the window over the darkened countryside. “Good sight lines.”

“For the invasion?” Doyle laughed a little as he wrapped his arms around Bodie. “Trust you.”

“He will come, you know.”

Bodie felt Doyle shrug. “He knows the truth now. He may not. We can listen to his offer, if he comes, but it’ll be our choice.”

“We’re free,” Bodie said, feeling it for the first time. He had signed away his life time and again, until he’d met Ray. He put his hand over Doyle’s.

“With our pub, and our car. Our Christmas Eve dinner—our chocolate.” 

“ _My_ chocolate.”

Doyle bit him. And later—quite a bit later—Bodie surrendered his claim to the chocolate, just before pleasure consumed him.

The End December 2016

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, as always, to Elizabeth O'Shea for encouragement of just the right sort, at just the right time.


End file.
